against the brackish December sky.
Glimmering white headlights of the approaching masses contrasted the blinking red brake lights of the poor schlubs traveling with me on the road to sombertown.
Perhaps it was the Peanuts Christmas album I was jamming or maybe just the
realization that my ancient strings of holiday lights have less broken bulbs than the cars on my commute.
This morning was different.
Wind, rain, and a myriad of cars stuck on the shoulder bring the typical crawl to a virtual standstill.
But it did not bring me down. No, not on this day.
Today was different.
I received a gift, a faint flashback into the heart of a child.
It felt just like Christmas.
This day was a gift waiting to be opened.